Jail Life: The Warden
by Fewfre
Summary: In the mid-1960's, times haven't changed. Discrimination still lingers while anti-war movements flourish. But for Amelia Morrison, it will be different...much different.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hidekaz Himaruya, therefore I do not own Hetalia. Sad face. Think of the writing style as a person's thoughts, but with more description. **

**Enjoy! (R & R would be appreciated)**

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><p>Seriously, what was it with society these days? So I robbed a bank and shot a teller…what are ya gonna do, jail me?<p>

"Miss Morrison, you are guilty of robbery and murder in the first degree and you will serve your sentence in the woman's prison of Nitella Fields Penitentiary for 35 years without parole."

The sound of a gauntlet on wood, that's what breaks people. Knowing you have no where left to go, you have no other options, your fate is sealed. I stood with my pride and spat on the bottom of the judge's stand. It wasn't my first time doing that; practice makes perfect, after all.

I get moved, mostly shoved, into a sickly white van filled with even sicker people. They don't have a disease but they're crazy alright. The shackles on me hurt, the metal rubbing against my soft skin. I was used to this but it still hurt, still made me feel a little fear. Prison was nothing, but the ride over was hell. Everyone's saying they were innocent, the judge was bribed, all that crap about how men shouldn't be so hard on us females. I stay quiet and look out the window, staring at mooing cows and plowing farmers. It's a lot better than pouring my sob story out to a bunch of strangers.

The sight of the place is huge, clearly defined. The big cement walls and metal gates reminds everyone that we're not in a dream, that this is reality. Ain't no game, just a way of life. The first-comers let tears fall silently from their eyes, and they all look down. Survivors like me hold our heads high and keep our noses up as the wide doors in the back are opened. A grim looking guy opens the doors and gives us the look of disappointment, telling us that we've all been bad girls. I crack a smile at that and he gives me the slightest twitch of the eyebrow. These guys are the Emotionals, the people that won't change face even if their lover shot themselves in the cranium right in front of them. In a way they're like the guards at the Royal Palace or Whatever It's Called in Britain, looking stiff and always on attention. Unlike the black-stacked hat wearing British guards though you can't mess with these guys, unless you want to get your arms broken.

The Emotional pushes me out first, a sign that I'm the least dangerous. All I did was shoot a guy after all. I walk with the connected chains and stare at the sun, which is beating down hard on all us sinners. That's what we are, all we are. Sinners and screw-ups, women who weren't the ideal girls of society. When we walk there aren't any catcalls like you'd expect, just shouts and jabbers from the other inmates. They all smile and grin at our pitiful look, and I search for the alpha. They don't have one. Not yet.

We get through the humiliation part, the part where everyone spits on you and says your worthless. I wipe off the saliva and stay ahead, eyes looking toward the next obstacle: meeting the guards.

Prison guards vary. You got your softies on one hand, then you got your strict ones on the others. Either way they're a pain in the ass. I trudge in front of the others and try to find out what they'll all look like, good-looking or bad-looking. The bad-looking ones are the easy ones to trick, since they don't got any real ladies going after them. You just send them a blow-kiss and sweet whisper and they're yours, hook line and sinker. Good-looking ones are more cunning but are more likely inexperienced and don't notice a stolen key. Easy pickings.

Doors open and our torture men are revealed, wearing tidy uniforms and giving the death glare. They are the good-looking, but also the strict. Something you don't see mixed. They all got different looks, different ethnicities, and no doubt different personalities. I can feel the others drooling beside me, the perverted dogs. I stay stoic and wait for the Warden, the cream of the crop, the main honcho.

He comes out with noisy shoes, clacking up and down the cement floor. His hair is dirty blonde and he gives all of us an equally dirty look filled slightly with seduction. The green eyes gleam with sadism and the light chuckle sends bad and good shivers up and down your spine. This Warden is different from the others, that's for sure. One of the girls beside me squeals. Big mistake.

Sweeping over to her, the Warden places a delicate hand under the girl's chin and smirks at her, drawing his face close. The girl's knees wobble and she starts shaking. He chuckles and lets her go, the other guards laughing when she faints. The magic of men is simply wonderous. He makes a move on me, exercising his abilities.

"The leather gloves are a nice touch," I comment, smirking back at him as smugly as he is at me. For a second he looks like he's about to be surprised, but then it's replaced by cold hatred. Yes, the freezing feeling of being despised for the crime you've committed. It can break a person, but I became unbreakable after five sentences, all of which I escaped with a false name. The only thing that could be broken now was my bones.

The Warden lets go and clears his throat, and starts explaining about all the regulations and restrictions and procedures of his prison. The other inmates stop trembling and start paying attention, not making googly eyes at the attractive prison guards anymore. I pay attention to the recreation outside, finding out what we inmates are to do for fun. There's a wide area where we can talk and a four-step bleacher, but that's about it. Anything else and we'll chip a nail.

One of the guards, tall and bleach blonde, leads us to our cells. This is when the newbies start whimpering. One of them hits on the blonde guard, to which he replies with a swift death glare that causes her to lay an egg. She doesn't literally lay one but her face tells it all. Rejection must hurt, especially when you know you won't get any love for five plus years.

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><p>My cell is on the second floor, a few bars away from a light. That means I have the chance to start the system again. I see the essentials, the toilet and the bed and the sink, and smile to myself. Home sweet home. The guard pushes me in and I stand in the middle of the room. He leaves me alone and I take my alone time to think, something I'll have a lot of. The system will work here, if used right. The system is what has kept me from going insane all these years.<p>

It's already time for us to lockdown and go to bed. This is the test of courage, the test of womanhood. If you don't break the first night you make it and prove you're more than a flapper girl. If you do break down you either have to go insane and get transferred to the crazy place or find a way to commit suicide. The prison ways for men are about the same here, and the top dogs will prey on the weak ones, tearing apart their soft mentality until they're nothing but a shell of themselves.

An hour after the lights go out everything stays silent, and people pretend to go to sleep. Forget who they are and where they are. The most skilled pass out right away, but the strongest wait for the weakest link to break. I wait for the weakest link to break.

The first cry is heard, for their boyfriend. It comes from the opposite side of where I am and is on the ground floor, the worst place to be. There everyone can just look down and glare at you. The first mockery is made and a holler of laughter follows. The taunting starts and the girl sobs loudly, drawing the guards in. They bang their batons on the black bars and everyone who's smart goes silent. The girl keeps sobbing and they stand next to her cell, waiting for her to quiet down. She doesn't. One of them, with slick back blonde hair and muscular arms, threatens solitary confinement. She doesn't stop. The man, looking of German blood, drags her out and marches her through one of the halls. His companion follows him and shoots a flirtatious glance at us and swoons are seen. He chuckles to himself and turns the lights off again. I take the rest of the night for sleep.

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><p>Morning is strategic, very important. Who will you sit with? Who will you talk to? Whose food will you steal? I take the smallest portion and sit next to the girl who made the first joke last night, not saying anything. She glares me down and asks in a southern drawl what I'm doing at their table. I smile at her and say that I'm claiming it. She's the type to fight right now, right here. She has the scars to prove that fact. She slams my face into the oatmeal, and I slam her face onto the floor and twist her arm back. She cries mercy and I'm soon established as the freak.<p>

No one talks to me during work time. I press and clean clothes silently before a big, muscly woman comes over and elbows me.

"You not half-bad."

Her tone is illiterate and she looks like it. Her skin is dark-brown and her black hair is poofy from the humidity of the work room. I snap the shirt in my hands, fold it, and hold out my hand and grab hers to shake it.

"Amelia Morrison. Here for robbery and first degree murder."

The serious look in my eyes gives her the message that I do what I want to do, and she smiles.

"Marlene Brown. Here for first degree arson and three counts of first degree murder."

"What'd you burn?"

"An orphanage. Three kids were caught in it and died."

The steam from the water boiler makes me sweat and I wipe it off with a dirty hand. My brown curls cling to my forehead and I feel sweaty all over. Marlene says nothing else, just stands next to me and washes clothes. I tell her that it's messed up she burned an orphange, and she smiles and says it's not difference from robbing a bank. I can tell we're gonna be good friends.

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><p>Recreation starts when we're let out in the open, and the girl who I fought before brings her minions over to plan to jump me. I walk up the bleachers and watch the windows for the Warden.<p>

I catch the green eyes staring at me, the pure distaste easily distinguishable. He already hates me. Good. I won't feel as bad when I knock him out for my escape. I wink at him and he turns away. I feel a jab in my side and turn to see the girl from before glaring at me, her blue eyes full of bloodlust. I smile. It's fun asserting my dominance.

She slaps me. I slap her, harder. She readies a punch and I twist her arm around, bringing it up so it'll break. She cries out and I let go, and she tries headbutting me. I step to the side and trip her, and then watch with satisfaction as she falls straight to the ground. A crowd has now gathered. Newbie versus Jailbitch, a prize fight they've never seen before. It's not much of a fight anymore, with her lip bleeding and a bruise on her cheek. I ball my fist up and square her straight at the jaw, watching in slow motion as a tooth escapes her mouth and floats to the ground floor. She stumbles and then cries out a few unladylike words and charges me again. I take my stance and am about to roundhouse kick her when one of the guards, a sweet-looking Russian, literally picks her up and perches her on his shoulder. She growls at me but can't say anything to the big man. I wait patiently as a ticked-off Italian looks me over with disgust. The girl is walked over to the clinic to get medical help and I'm sentenced to two days of solitary confinement, along with a meeting with the Warden.

I take the charge with silence and trot softly into the solitary confinement room, surrounded entirely by cement. When the door closes I imagine the darkness as the night sky with bright stars all around.

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><p>Reputation builds when you make the first bold move. You appear to be the girl of all badass, the girl who you would trust with your life. I've been on the top for all my jail sentences and am used to the popularity. When I get out no one will talk to me, but they will respect me. The fear and dismal admiration makes people like that. I play the scenarios of my ascent to the throne of alpha and smile to myself, seeing I'll make it to there regardless of what happens next. I will be the alpha, the controller of everything involving the inmates. Then, the system will start again.<p>

Hours pass by me and are filled with the lustful desires of a twenty-seven year old woman. I picture the sex, the money, the fame, the houses, the life of a girl who has it all. Living like a queen is impossible now but it's not hard to envision it. The walls confine my body but not my imagination.

Day and night are inconceiveable. Darkness is everywhere, and I like to pretend that I'm back on the grassy hills watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. The only thing missing are the fireflies, but I don't miss them. I don't miss anything from my past.

After a few hours the blonde-one opens the door and calls me out, surprisingly giving me a charismatic smile. I walk out and take one glance back, blinking back in the starry night. He leads me through hallways and past doors that contain offices, clinics, and incinerators. He stops at a door with big handles. I assume that it's the Warden's office. His black gloves wrap around the metal and pulls it open, and I step casually in. Acting calm and composed is better than acting shameful and innocent.

Feet perched on the table, leaning to the left with a grin on the right, the Warden looked more like a delinquet than I did. I studied him for a moment more before sitting down in the wooden chair in front of me. His eyes watched me like the predator watches his prey.

"Your second day and you've already gotten into a fight, hm?"

His accent wasn't deep Southern, more of a Queen's English type. Not to mention his eyebrows looked like caterpillars that had laid down symetrically and died there.

"Did I impress you?"

I smile flirtatiously at him, batting my eyelashes. He's not the type to get fazed by girls like me but he'll flirt back, which is more entertaining. He smiles back as expected and leans forward.

"In some ways, yes. No woman has been able to do such manly moves before."

"You're pulling out the sexist card now? How childlish."

"That's not the type of thing you'd say to your superior."

My grin widens and I lean on the table closer to him, able to hear him breathe.

"You don't know me as well as you think you do, warden."

"Kirkland. My name is Kirkland, inmate."

He says with a straight face, pulling back. I bring out my hand for him to shake but he doesn't make a move. I slide it down back to my side and stare out the window. Recreation is going on now, and I see the blue-eyed girl sitting alone on a bench. You'd expect her to be crowded by friends, but with her pride hurt she probably snapped at them constantly and drove them away. Now was the time for me to set-up the system and take control of the prison.

Kirkland noticed my staring and slipped his hand under my chin, perking it up.

"Keep those pretty eyes to me, inmate, not outside. Now keep your hands off your comrades or you'll all get punished next time, got it?"

I smirked as his hand left my chin and I settled it on top of my positioned hands. Keep your cool, no matter what. Agree with what he says but keep the mood going, that's the only way to get past the proffesionalism.

"Of course, warden."

"Call me Kirkland."

"Of course, warden."

Kirkland was obviously angry that I was disrespecting him but sent me away anyway, preoccupied with the mess of paperwork on his desk. Before I left our eyes met and I made sure to blow him a kiss as I left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him wave it off, but with a grin.

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><p>I get escorted by a Chinese to the outside area to interact. He leaves me with a scowl. Every pair of inmates eyes are on me, exaimining me. They wonder what I'll do next, who I'll kill next. Tension rises as thoughts become more dramatic and I take the first step forward. I see flinching and cringing from the others but they don't move, don't speak. More steps. Up to the bleachers. Marlene is sitting up there and watching me like an eagle.<p>

"So you out, huh?"

She doesn't sound impressed, just indifferent. Like she expected it from me at the start. She knows who I am and I know who she is. She is the brawn while I am the brains, although I have more strength than the usual brainiac. Survival and years of prison life has helped us both with first impressions and we already know we'll get along.

"Yeah, and I got a hit from the warden too."

"Don't mess with him."

The expression on her face remains serious as we talk, not even close to breaking the ice and smiling. That's alright, that's what I presumed from her anyway. A smile would make her bendable, weak. I didn't want a weak friend, I wanted a dependable one.

"You up for a partnership?"

"Depends on what it is."

This is it, the moment when the system is established. Once I explain it or even mention it there's no looking back. I take my time to explain how it works and then wait for her to agree. Marlene blinks only twice while I explain, standing stiff on the concrete bleachers and glancing at the girls below us. I already know that they're staring at me. Eyes of fear, admiration, and spite. Their opinion of me has changed substantially. Soon I will be the alpha, in charge of henchwomen and giving orders that the guards won't notice. No one will dare disobey me.

I finish my plan, my system. I gaze into the dark-brown eyes, expectant yet patient. She stares into the sky, following a seagull from the coast as it floats across the gates and out into the free land. The land that I will eventually be running across, screaming my independence. The land that is filled with opportunity and freedom and happiness and new beginnings and romance and a new life. She turns to me, curly black hair bobbing against her cheek ever so faintly.

"I'll do it."


	2. Chapter 2

Cigarettes. The use of them are amazing. It's been proven they're unhealthy, but people still smoke them. It's been proven that it takes money to buy them, but even then they're used as a currency. For what? Anything in prison that you want from the outside world, the danger zone. Networks bring you what you want, as long as you can pay the price. The router is as important as the product, and is heavily depended on. I am the router.

Connections I have go way back to my first sentence, when I was convicted of selling illegal drugs to underage teens. I got put in the slammer and grew up for a few months with some brutal girls and we promised to stay in touch after getting out. After we all escaped together that promise became a bloodpack, and we formed a sort of criminal process we called the system. The system is where us inmates exchanged with each other tools or accessories we desperately wanted but weren't allowed to have, and the nicotine-contained sticks were the currency used. Hammers, pencils, paper, all that stuff.

But this place, Nitella Fields Penitentiary, was different. What inmates wanted, the demand, had changed. They didn't want writing utensils, carving tools, pictures of loved ones, or even jewelery. They wanted the guards.

From what I had seen, these were the guards so far: An Italian, another, more pissed off Italian, a Spaniard, a good ol' American, a Canadian, a German, a white haired German, a Frenchman, a Chinese, another Chinese, a Jap, a Korean, a Greek, a Turkish man, an Austrian, a Swiss, a Norwegian, a Swedan, a Dutch, a Scot, an Icelandic, a Finnish, a Russian, a Cuban, an Egyptian, a Lithuanian, an Estonian, a Polish, a Latvian, and of course a Briton.

And all were ten points up from the usual attractiveness of an ordinary man.

Women swooned when they walked by, tripped on purpose to get caught by them, wrote love letters and handed it to them, confessed their love to them through their own cells. It was a sad thing to watch, truly. The guards were used to this and just ignored them coldly, breaking more hearts. Figured we deserved to be romantically and sexually deprived. Yet at lunch I saw inmates pull out letters that were more then confessions of love, but were stories about love and conquest not just between the inmates and the guards but between the guards themselves. Yes, stories about them making love. I've also seen a few comics of it, never mind how people got the art materials. I was revolted and disgusted at hearing and seeing this, but supply is demand. It wouldn't just be beneficial to me either; maybe the stories and comics would entertain the guards when they were confiscated.

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><p>"Hey Marcy, got the new chapter yet?"<p>

Marlene leaned over the metal table at breakfast with a crooked smile fixed on her face. I sat beside her, crossing my arms and tapping my foot on the floor. Marcy had the pretty face of a showgirl but the intent of a psychopath, killing both her husband and his slut.

"I-I'm almost done, don't worry."

Her eyes are transfixed on Marlene but the fear is meant for me. In only a few weeks I have made myself top dog, and I now had my own underlings to do the dirty work. One step out of line though and their bones would be broken. Everyone else either worked on the Bro-Love Tales or became informants. Outsiders were shunned and never talked, didn't even form their own rival group. They knew who was alpha and had accepted it.

My smug chuckle reaches her ears and she reacts with a jolt, listening to me with the deer caught in the headlight eyes.

"You may be our best contributor but that doesn't mean you can slack off, Marcy."

My smile is burned into her eyes.

"You will be done by tomorrow, though, right?"

"Y-yes, of course!"

She shouts it loudly and some guards turn towards us, the pissed off Italian and Spaniard. They both give us the same glare. Marlene glares back, Marcy trembles, I smile and wave. The pissed off Italian grunts and starts yelling at a few inmates trying to bully another into giving up her food. Marcy blushes when she makes eye contact with the Spainiard. I take the moment to whisper something important to Marlene.

"Make sure she's good and not bad. We don't want any rottens here."

Marlene nods slowly. I quickly throw Marcy's tray away while she oggles at the brown-haired hotty. She stares in disbelief at the empty space in front of her. Serves her right. You don't work with the router and crush on a guard at the same time. It's just unethical.

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><p>Another dispute that needed go down in fisticuffs. One of the outsiders is a snitch. Marlene had to handle that. The American and Russian broke them up. I was called up to Kirkland's office.<p>

"Nice to see you again, love."

His voice is filled with sarcasm. My voice is filled with nothing but I make sure to smile at him. He doesn't smile back.

A document is laid out in front of me, with written words and various numbers printed. My picture is in the top right corner, black and white. It wouldn't kill them to add a bit of color to my cheeks. I stare down at it, eyes scanning my record. I had been tried many times, apparently. Kirkland clears his throat to get my attention.

"There's been some unprecidented activity going on with my inmates, and a variety of people have told me that you have started fights. Is this true?"

"Your eyes are really mesmirizing, really. I can just drown in them."

"Answer me truthfully, Amelia. Are you instigating fights with the other inmates?"

"Only when they say they love you more than I do."

Kirkland glares icily at me. He clearly isn't pleased. I lean forward and bring up the bottom of my jumpsuit. My legs are long, my chest normal size. The Warden doesn't give them a glance.

"Tell me the truth so we can get this over with."

"Sorry, but I got nothing to do with this. Maybe you should let us sleep with the guards."

"Clearly that won't happen."

"It was worth a try."

The Warden smiles. I smile. His drops. He waves me off but I catch his hand, kissing the fingertips.

"Good health to you and your family, warden."

"I don't have a family and my name is Kirkland, not warden, you git."

I laugh at the stereotypical word and he rolls his eyes. My hand releases his and I walk out with my escort, the Latvian. He trembles beside me with shiver lines above his head. I ask what's wrong and he goes back to the stiff guard act, not saying anything back. In time the guards might break. They've never had an aplha like me, after all. But for now I just had to touch and question. Eventually they'll melt. And when they do, my writers will be out there with their sketchpads to scribble down every detail.

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><p>Marlene tells me that Marcy finished the chapter. I tell her not to break her body into a weird shape. She's disappointed but obeys. That night I switch out the comics and the stories for cigarettes and the smell fills our cells. The guards notice but blame each other. We watch as one threatens to punch the other and I comment on how hot it is. The women fidget in their cells at the same time, creating a loud ruckus. Writing is heard. The guards are creeped out and leave. I smile at them and wonder if they've read any of their personal love stories yet.<p>

I finally got the name of my rival. Amy Bernard, a blonde girl from South Carolina. She didn't act like the Southern Belle, though. Against my army we were fairly equal, except that she didn't have the one thing I had: the system. All she could use for power was grudges. That and promises of uprisings. Uprisings wouldn't work here. I could easily see that. If one inmate tried to get out, all the guard had to do was take off their shirt. Hook line and sinker.

Escaping for now wasn't an option.

But playing around was, especially with danger. The Warden didn't like me at all. He hated my guts, my popularity, my authority. He also hated that I flirted with anything that moved. Too bad for him since he was needed for my eventual escape. I had gotten through other wardens before. He wasn't anything special. The period of flirty peace between us had dissipated to nothing but hateful respect, something I had counted on. Now I needed to make my next move.

"Ame, stop daydreamin' bout the warden before one of the guards sees ya."

Marlene jabs my shoulder. Hard. Whether she means to or not I have no idea. I jab her back harder for good measure.

"I can handle myself fine, thanks."

"I'm just warnin' you, girl. They lookin' at you like a hawk."

True, but that was expected. I brought my head up to stare at the Scottish guard. He smiled at me. I smiled back. He waved. I waved back. Marlene slapped me across the face.

"Girl, what are you doing? Don't you know he's one of the guys that turned in Marcy?"

Right, Marcy. She got caught for possession of pornography or something like that. If she had been sent to another prison or given the death sentence I didn't know. Rumors would circulate soon. I ignored Marlene's warning and blew a kiss at the Scot. He caught it and smirked, kissing his hand. A few girls had noticed from beside me. I gave them a glance and they didn't see anything.

Marlene had thrown some hot towels at my face. It felt like hell but I ignored it, calmly putting them on the conveyer belt. She knew not to mess with me. I wondered lightly what had gotten into her then brushed it off. Drama didn't concern anyone but me. That was how I made it, after all. The fake identities, solid connections, and bribery had been enough drama for me to handle. Marlene better watch out though.

Next time I won't let her off so easy.

* * *

><p>The feel of the Scot's hand on my back distracted me. Only faintly. My thoughts were off somewhere else, about how we had to get another writer. Marcy was our best contributor and now that she walked out we had more work. As in we, I meant the others. They complained. A lot. I told them I would fix the problem. Correction, my underlings would. They didn't.<p>

There was no laughter as I was escorted to the Warden's office, fifth time of that week. What have I been caught for this time, officer? I asked the Scot, acting sleazy. It was easier to do that when you had something to gain. Love was just a waste of emotions, a human deception. Lust was more fun and so was adultery. He had simply grinned and told me I needed to see the Warden.

I was released. His hand stroked down my back before fully letting go and I made sure they touched my fingertips. Lust, wanting, desire. That was what I was good at. I couldn't show my body in public, though. That's what stopped me from being a prostitute and stripper. Manipulation was my main attribute

Kirkland scowled as I came in. I smiled at him and sat down. The chair was pushed a bit back and I moved it forward. Kirkland raised his bushy eyebrows but didn't say anything. He didn't need to, with cheeks flushed. I took note of this.

"It looks like you started another fight today, Morrison."

He didn't say it like that. There were slurs, hiccups, all of that. Drunk, a perfect way to decribe him. I didn't see any bottles on the desk or floor. He must've taken a bet of drinking in the morning and lasting through the day. I remember when I did that. When I was twenty-one.

This was good, very good. My relationship with the Scot would have to be stalled. There was no better way to get Kirkland to fall for me then to get him while he was drunk. Beat the truth of his feelings from him and then lick his tongue to death.

I denied, denied. Stood my ground and didn't do anything. Waited for the perfect moment. He finished the futile interrogation and asked how I was doing. Yes, he was slurring his words still.

"I'm fine, although it would be better if I saw you more."

"You really are such a bloody flirt, you know that? I bet you have all the men wrapped around your fingers and you can play with them like puppets."

I smile. Here comes my alluring response.

"But you're the only puppet I want to play with, Arthur."

I had learned his name from the whisperings of the guards. I felt satisfaction when I saw him blush deeper.

"H-how do you know my name, git?"

"Oh I know everything about you professionally, Arthur. But personally I have no idea. Won't you teach me?"

My voice was like a constant melody as words slipped from my mouth. It would only be a little more and my seduction would be complete. He had started looking at me as a man would at a woman.

I took advantage and stood up. Walked over to where he was. Crouched down so our faces were inches apart. The smell of liquor was harsh but I could smell his scent too. Manly, coated with a gentleman-like look. He looked at me with slow eyes. I took my chance and pressed my lips to his.

The moment was taken away with a knock at the door. I stepped quickly back. Kirkland's face was priceless, blushing yet confused yet satisfied yet regretful at the same time. I kept my smile hidden until I was walked to my cell. Once inside, I let out laughter. The inmates next to me shrunk to their oppposite walls. Amy told me to shut up. Marlene told her to go to hell and she laughed too. We both knew what had happened. My henchwomen joined our laughter and soon the guards had to come in. Amy was escorted away.

Once the raucous giggling settled down I lit a cigarette and smoked. My first smoke was when I was fourteen, now I was twenty-seven. Thirteen years of experience there. People followed me and smoked their bit. Non-smokers coughed and hid under their beds to escape the scattering smoke. The lights went out and all I could see was the knife marks on my cell walls. I pictured them as bills and jewelery and felt better.

* * *

><p>With Marcy gone, I have more demands for good writing. People claim that other writers suck and new writers have to be found. Those people are also Amy's henchwomen. I flick them off a few times and tell them to write their own stories. My writers thank me in quiet voices.<p>

Flirting with danger is easy here. The Scot has spread around about my open sexuality and some other guards have joined in. Other inmates are horrified by this and Marlene tells me to be careful. How did she put it again?

"Stay the hell away from them, you dumbass whore."

I tell her to shut the—cue f-bomb—up and she grunts angrily. Our relationship will remain, but with disputes about romance. She can't say much though. I've seen the way she looks at the pissed off Italian. And really, it's him of all people. She's fallen head over heels for him even though she'll never admit it.

"Me, to him? Girl, they must be puttin' some other stuff in those sticks you smoke."

Her denial was funny at first, but now it was pissing me off. I felt like the Italian. He and his brother—as I supposed they were—hadn't flirted back with me yet, so they were all hers. The more 'lovers' we had the better. That's how you made it, escaped. You either sucked up to the guards or sucked through them, or stayed quiet and composed as you hammered away at your cell wall. Any path you chose was a long road.

I clutched the bible in my hand, smiling to myself. My rejoicing of faith was crushed years ago, back when I was first put in. One simple screw up and I became the scum of the society ladder. I understood why some radicals wanted us to be communist. Those blacks like Marlene finally got their rights but it would take a while before us women got ours.

The sound of a bible's pages being ripped out is sounded in the cell next to mine. I believe in Christ and all, but practicing that was a bit difficult. For all I knew some guards would get offended. That wouldn't work at all. For all I knew, this bible might have been fabricated to make us feel worse about ourselves. A conspiracy theory? Maybe I could spread it around, start a riot, a revolt. The system would get even stronger. Organizing that would take time, though, and a lot of my skill.

Good thing I had time and endurance.


	3. Chapter 3

The Warden's lip twitched as I was escorted into his office, again. Whether he remembered our little accident I had no idea, so I decided to test it out. I started the whole strip tease routine and he stared in shock as his face went red.

"Wh-what do you think you're doing in my office?"

His voice is hysterical. I stop but lean over his desk. My movements are cat like, and I feel the same as a cat stalking a mouse. Guess who's the mouse.

"Ah, but I can't control myself around you, warden."

Kirkland grunts and snaps at me to sit down. His face is still flushed. I lie back in the chair and button my shirt back up. Sex appeal meant nothing, but persistence did. He was becoming more attracted to me, little by little. This was good. Soon I would be able to seduce him.

"I've heard more reports about you, Ms. Morrison. None of them are good."

"How can that be? I'm a perfect little jail girl."

"Your sarcasm is hilarious, really. But how much longer do you plan to keep up this whole innocent act?"

My smile creeps up, like the Chesire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

"When you have evidence against me, Arthur."

"Don't call me Arthur…and if you keep doing what you're doing we _will _obtain evidence. It will only be a matter of time before we get any."

I nod and look out the window. Marlene is outside, leaning an elbow over a short wall barrier and gazing in the pissed off Italian's direction. She's breaking my patience by doing that. She knows it. I grit my teeth and turn my attention back to the Warden. Revenge is what's needed to be done, to assert myself in front of my business companion. She needs to know what I can do.

Time slows down to a draw as I step over to Kirkland, standing by him on the same side of his desk. He scoffs and goes back to writing, not telling me to go back. I reach up and place a hand on his cheek.

"How is that every time you talk to me your cheeks flush, warden?"

"Because you keep flirting with me."

"You enjoy it then?"

"Sit down, convict."

I kiss him again, this time on the cheek. He doesn't expect it and jumps back. I laugh and plant my hands on the arms of his chair, staring him down. Being passive won't work, I'll have to be assertive. His eyes stare widely into mine. His face is so red it could be a tomato. This isn't the Warden of strict rules, of capital punishment. This is the Warden who has a soft shell on the inside, deep inside. I take off one of his black gloves and suck on his fingertips. He doesn't move, just narrows his eyes. Waiting to see what else I'll do. I suck harder, grabbing it and pushing it deeper into my mouth. He groans slightly and takes my head in his other hand. His eyes are brimming with lust, emotions now surfacing. Our lips are about to meet when the doorknob is rattled.

He pushes me back with embarrassment and orders the guard to come in. It's the Scot. He gives me a smile and leads me out. His hand goes to my back but then he pushes me against a wall. He smirks and I wait for him to act.

"I knew you were doing something, lassie. Just couldn't figure it out at first. Flirting with me, then my co-workers…"

He shakes his red hair and sneers.

"And now you even have the Warden wrapped around your pretty little finger."

I stare back indifferently. He has no proof. Jealousy is what compels him to say such things. I can see the anger, and a little bit of hurt on the side. If he had started falling in love with me I had no idea. I doubted it highly.

"You must be the jealous type, hm?"

I ask with a slick smile. Need to keep up the act, otherwise I'm done for. For the first time the Scot bars his teeth at me. He's angry, enraged almost. But why? It's not like he actually liked me. No, there must be another reason. Something more logical than so-called love.

Suddenly, I noticed it. The eyes, the cold to warm personality, the play-boy attitude. He was Kirkland's brother. He must have put himself in charge of overseeing me personally, making sure I didn't become trouble. Well I became trouble, so now what?

The Scot growls at me but lets me go. I get transferred to the Prussian, who tries hitting on me with demon-like red eyes. I tell him how creepy his eyes are and he shuts up. He was more sensitive than Marcy.

The cell size seems to decrease as I'm pushed in. A few pairs of eyes follow me but I glare back at all of them except Marlene. She asks if I was a dumbass through lip talk. I ask if she's done the pissed off Italian yet. Our eyes narrow at each other and she goes back to throwing one of her buttons on the wall. She throws it, picks it up, then does it again. It's a superb way to remain sane.

I go back to looking at the walls and wondering about the 'love life' I'm now leading. Kirkland wanted me, badly. His blood brother, the Scot, was either jealous or protective. How this would play out I hade no idea. In the past when I got with the wardens it had all been secret, no one else knowing. With the factor of the Scot being there it threw me off. Way off. I needed to think of a recourse plan. I saw Amy giving me glaring daggers as she walked by my cell and I smiled broadly at her. She called me a slut through her lips.

Ah, and there was that too. My drama could fill up the whole cell room if it wanted to. Never mind Marlene, I needed to figure my other problems out first.

* * *

><p>One of the outsiders throws a spoon at my head. Ouch, so hurtful. I grip my tray and prepare to pour the excess breakfast over her head when I realize that the guards are watching me. Hard. I keep my grip of both sides of the tray and sit back down, letting the spoons and forks hit me. Felt like little rocks but it still pissed me off.<p>

The guards knew, that simple. The Scot had circulated everything about my supposed relationship with the Warden and if I didn't fix the problem I would be doomed and forced to stay in this prison where every girl has a lady boner for every guy and all the guards act like hot stuff and the place next to us looks like a toxic waste dump and—

No, needed to calm down. Needed to talk to the Scot alone, just us two. For all I know they had just singled me out to make an example of me. Either that or they hated my guts to flirt with anything that moved.

* * *

><p>At recreation I throw a big rock at the girl who got me before's head. She turns around with a scowl. Her friends back her up as she challenges me, beating her chest, throwing her voice around. Trying to act tough. She makes the first move, shaking my shoulders. I make the second, pushing her back and slapping her across the face. I then push her to the ground and twist her arm around while bending her head back. She screams in extreme pain. I keep on. Her friends try to save her but my henchwomen come in to help me, using their own punches. Amy's group, ever the attention-starved, creep over and jump a few of mine from behind. Amy throws me off the girl and starts helping her up. I sprint in for a running punch and then—<p>

Bam, the smell of whisky hits my nose and I'm pulled back. I protest but I'm pulled back into a corner. The Scot has me to where I can't see the fight. I try to look past him, to check on my own team, but he forces me against the wall.

He glares at me. I see a cigarette stub in his mouth. He must have been on break when he was called to stop the fight. No wonder he was pissed. He picked the stub out and swiftly threw it to the ground, bringing his face close to mine.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you'll be in for this? There's a first class riot going on in there and no one will dismiss you as a suspect."

"And you care…why?"

"Because you'll see the Warden again, that's why. I don't want you messing with my brother."

I clear my throat and push him back. I'm stronger than him and he's forced to step back. Surprise lights his face but I go on with my speaking.

"Stop telling people that me and the warden are together."

His emotions change from stunned, angry, thoughtful, angry again, and then finally to confusion.

"I had no idea anyone else knew."

"You told me you knew what was going on between us. The guards treated me like crap this morning. Who else would've told him?"

The Scot shakes his head, non-verbally saying he doesn't know. I consider the possibility of him lying to me but then wave it off. It would be a major embarrassment if the other guards knew an inmate had one of his brother's by a string. He glares at me again. Doesn't know what to do, what to say. Only the looks he gives me pass off his feelings. He'll keep the secret a bit longer but I need insurance.

I grab his head and kiss him on the lips. It works wonders. He peels me off and looks ready to slap me. I glance towards the broken up fight. My underlings had won. Amy's army was badly bruised. The outsider girl's were lying on the ground, nursing their wounds. One by one the guards came and carried the damsels to the clinic. I had a feeling some were faking injuries.

A hand gripping my wrists together on my back startles me. I see it's the Scot, blushing but still pissed off. I had insurance now. He wouldn't tell a soul or I would tell of what just happened between us.

Manipulation worked like that.

* * *

><p>Marlene gave me daggers in the form of looks as we stood in our cells. She was in the cell on the floor directly across from me. She mouthed the question of where I went and I told her I needed to get insurance. She asks what the hell that means and I tell her through slight whispers. A few other inmates try to listen in but I smile evilly at them to silently tell them stay out of it. When I tell Marlene what happened she shakes her head after. Mouthes I was a crazy bitch. I asked what happened with the pissed off Italian. She gets defensive and lays down in her cot. I chuckle to myself and twirl the bible in my hands. Up and down, up and down, like a juggling act the wisdom-filled book flies. It falls to the ground, opening up to the page about lust. I blink and ponder about the religious riot. It would be good if I started it soon.<p>

Steps down the corridor, it's the Frenchman. Some brave women stick love letters out for him. Unlike other cold guards he gladly takes them and stashes them in his pocket. Convicts tell me that the only reason they like him is because he satisfies their interests. I wonder what they mean by that.

He tells me in a whispering voice that the Warden needs to see me, and I smile to myself. Jealousy is in the air but no one says anything. Not like they can anyway.

The Warden is giving me the slick smirk as I come in his office. Seems out adventure yesterday sent his feelings on a polar opposite journey, and now he loved me. Lust was such a great emotion.

"So good to see you again, Amelia."

The familiarity and warmth in his voice makes me happy. Yes, I'm one step closer to breaking out of here. I lean forward and smile at him.

"Nice to see you too, Arthur. I wish we could see each other more."

"You and I both know that's bullock, but I'll take it as a compliment anyway."

A light laugh comes from my mouth and his eyes glitter with contentness. Then, his smile dims and he pulls out my paper file.

"Inmates and guards have told me that you started the fight today. They say a girl named Fiona instigated you and you tried to, and I quote, 'beat the living hell out of her'."

He looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. The intensity of it makes you want to cry. I sit, stone-faced. The only emotion he'll get out of me were the ones that came from physical attraction.

"Is this true or not? I mean, obviously it is but I want to see how you'll defend yourself."

"Someone might know about us."

I blurt this out. Make it sound desperate. His eyes widen and he doesn't say anything. The silence in the room in evident. Outside Marlene peps up the last of my henchwomen. The rest have either gone off to Amy's side or this new girl Fiona's. If I don't use the religious debate quickly I could lose my alpha status. Fighting people was all good and well but I didn't want to face the Warden all the time. Not when he wasn't ready to go with me so easily.

After what seems like hours Kirkland throws his voice out.

"Who?"

I'm not surprised by the question. In fact I expect it completely. I look at him with dead serious eyes as I say her name.

"Really now…and you're sure it's her?"

"Yes, Amy Bernard. She hates me because I beat her ass in front of everyone."

"Don't use profanity near me."

"Fuck."

Kirkland glares at me. The old feeling of hate is back. But he's hiding something. The nervous twitch of the finger, the tapping of his foot on the ground. It's vaguely easy to tell. I need to convince him to spill it. Looks like my lady powers will have to be used.

"Really Arthur, don't worry about it. They should know that our feelings are nothing but lustful desires, created through sexual depravation. You have nothing to worry about. I'll sort it all out, I promise. Just trust me."

All while I'm talking I step over to him, lightly and purposely. I brush his hair out of his eyes and am hit with the gaze of forest-green irises. I whisper the words in his ear and nudge my head against his shoulder affectionately. He sighs and pushes my head away.

"Honestly I don't know whether I should trust you or not. Your record isn't one of purity, you know."

I stop trying to comfort him and lay back against the concrete wall. It's cold and cools my hot body down. He rejects my movements easily, yet only a day ago he couldn't control himself. Did he have a finger fetish?

To test out my new theory, I grab his glove and take it off. Kirkland narrows his eyes at me and tries to snap his hand back to him. I keep an iron-grip and kiss his fingertips. The restraint halts. I smile to myself and put a finger in my mouth, covering it with saliva. His calm look transforms into a lustful one and he pins me against the wall. His warm breath fills the air. His lips press to mine and I feel his hands rake down my back, then around the front of my body. I kiss him back and play with his dirty blonde hair. It's messy and unkept, making it harder to run my fingers through. I don't care, just keep going. He does the same. No guards interrupt us this time.

They say that every warden has a secret fetish. For some, it's a shoe fetish, where they like to lick your shoe and then make love to you. For others it's simply the accent fetish, imitating Russian and Swedish to give the audiophile a quick stimulation. For Kirkland, it was his fingers. That and I heard from rumors he had a thing for magical creatures, but this would do for now. The observations made, of course, were by me.

After minutes of hard breathing and deep kissing Kirkland pulls me back. He wants to go further, the eyes say so. But he's not stupid. Committing the act here, everyone would hear it. He whispers into my ear that he'll call me down later tonight. I shiver with anticipation. He then turns into the spiteful warden again and throws me out. The Scot is waiting for me again.


	4. Chapter 4

Glaring ensues between us. The Scot knows what's happening but he can't do anything. I know he knows and I can't do anything. We're at stalemates with each other.

A perfect example would be a checker's game. I'm in the middle of the board, my team on the bottom. The guards or the authority is at the top. I've made my way to the battlefield, the center, and the Scot's piece is one of the ones looking to take me out. So is Kirkland's. On the tip top is the holy land, the free world. If I can get past them I can win the game. My companions are behind me and Marlene is only a step away from where I am. We're close, so close, but the remaining number of guards outweighs our own force. We have to maneuver, use our wits and common sense to win.

The Scot notices my deep-thinking and pushes me forward with the baton. I lunge forward but then swish back, pin him against the wall. He looks like he's about to throw me out when I kiss him again. The shock of it shuts him up.

"What have you heard from the other guards?"

My voice is a careful whisper, filled with uneasiness and deception. He blinks at me. Must not know whether to tell me the truth or not or call backup. Finally he opens his mouth to talk.

"They say they heard from an inmate that you were 'with' the warden. I told them that was impossible but Yao said the girl told him she was there while you two were kissing. Found some sort of hiding place or something."

I take all of this in with silence. It makes sense yet it doesn't. How would she know about this secret place? From other convicts they told me she didn't get in trouble often. They did say, however, that she was always called up to see the warden for her health issues. When I ask what was wrong with her they simply say it was her immune system. I claim bullshit but don't say it out loud.

And then, everything connects again. Kirkland's nervous actions when he talks about her. Amy's hatred toward me, not just because I took away her status. I also took away her man. I had to do something to get her to shut up.

The Scot waits patiently for it to sink in and I let him go. Once he's off the wall I tell him my theory. He doesn't say anything, just blinks. A lot more than normal. A liar.

"Why didn't you tell me she had a fling with him?"

I already know what he'll answer with but I want to hear it anyway. He looks away. Either embarrassed or crestfallen.

"Because if I did then you would've realized what a playboy my brother really was."

I wait for an extended explanation. He gulps but goes on.

"Women to him…are only tools. He only wants them for sex, love, and satisfying his fetishes. His relationship with her lasted longer than others, but he broke it off with her in the end. Said she was getting too attached. That might be why he likes you, because you're so easygoing. Ready to go with anyone, anytime, anywhere."

"So basically I'm a slut?"

"You're more classy then a slut, more like a pretty girl lover."

"Always going for the best prize."

"Exactly."

Talking about this with him, finding out details about his brother, it brought our relationship up. He trusted me to tell me all of this. I guess I trusted him enough to think he was telling the truth. He looks at me with emerald eyes. They're different then the warden's, which seem cocky and cold. These are sensitive and sympathetic.

* * *

><p>I can't say anything. The emotion he's giving me is way too much. Suddenly he bends down and hugs me. Way out of line. I close my eyes and welcome the warmth. I don't feel any feelings, but it's nice to know someone who cares. No wonder the girls here fell head over heels for the guards. After the wall of ice melted their was a good guy in all of them.<p>

Oh, how great it is to be such a hypocrite. All young guards are like that. Want to comfort you, make you feel better. They just want you for your body. I've seen too many times where that's the case.

Which is why I needed to stop procrastinating and stop Marlene's affections.

* * *

><p>The Scot looks at me, then closes in and kisses me. I don't kiss him back but I don't restrain from it either. Lead them on, Amelia, just lead them on.<p>

Lead them on until it's time for them to be broken.

* * *

><p>I'm about to go to sleep when the Warden hugs my body. We're sleeping in a room located who knows where, somehow still in the prison. I'm naked and I can feel his skin press against mine. It's warm and I shudder from the feeling of cold to warm.<p>

"You still awake, love?"

He murmurs softly. The time is night, the same day. We had just gotten through the seduction and I was now more tired than I've ever been. Being so young and having so much energy really took a toll on me. I tell him I'm not and he chuckles. Suddenly teeth are on my neck and I have a strong urge to moan. I contain myself and shift farther away from him, complaining about needing to sleep for tomorrow.

"I can just write you a clinic pass."

"Stop it already…we've already had sex tonight…I'm not ready for any more…"

He sighs and gives up. Whenever a woman says they're not ready you back off, that simple. At least he understands that. I wait until I hear snoring and then look around the room. It's well furbished, surprisingly. I want to go outside and see where we are exactly but I know I can't. Kirkland would know and become suspicious.

I look at his sleeping body. Attractive on the outside but not on the in. I was reminded of myself, and possibly the Scot. I still hadn't learned his name. Maybe I should…

No. That would establish a bond, a relationship. I had enough of that with Kirkland. Perhaps I should start calling him Arthur now, since we were technically lovers. The sound of the word excites me and I imagine what only happened a few minutes ago. My virginity was lost years ago to a bad boy on the wrong side of the world, but with Kirkland it felt like I was an innocent pure girl while he was the equally innocent pure boy. I can see why Amy found it so hard to let go.

Thinking of that I smile to myself. Yes, Amy would be jealous. So jealous in fact she'd probably start another fight, and I'd make sure I'd win. I'll merge my army with Fiona's before she can. Fiona seems as hard grit as I am so we'd be more compatible. Amy would lose everything, and who knows? Maybe she'll kill herself. When that happens I'll point the finger at me, not Fiona. I want the credit.

Suddenly stimulated, I lean over to Arthur and kiss his earlobe. His eyes open and he smiles.

"Change your mind?"

"For now, yes."

We both smile and I assume the position while he lays kisses on my lips and chest. Yes, it felt good to be the alpha, to have everything in my hands.

It was about time I got there.

Romance out of the way, I began my plan for jail domination. Marlene sat silently as I told her what I planned to do to get us out.

* * *

><p>"Sounds good, but what about the Scottish guy?"<p>

"What about him? He's nothing, just a stepping stone to the ultimate prize: freedom."

"Seems like he really likes you though, unlike that lady killing warden."

I blink in surprise. Was she seriously telling me how to feel? I told her before that the Scot was nothing but a liability, just a person I used in my game.

"What's with you all of a sudden, telling me what to do?"

"I'm just sayin' that maybe the guy likes you for more then a girl to fool around with."

"Who in the hell do you think you are?"

My eyes narrow. I can feel anger bubbling inside. She glares back at me and electricity passes between us. Below us everyone is mingling like normal. Making friends, making enemies, making homosexual relationships. Our silent battle isn't noticed until I snap the cord.

"This is because you confessed to the pissed off Italian, huh? I knew you liked him, wanted him. He rejected you though. Just like every other guard."

"At least I'm not doing the warden and flirting with his brother at the same time, you whore."

War cries. That's all I hear, all I make. I grab one of her puffy curls and twist it around, make her screech in pain. She grabs at my hand and digs in her fingernails so hard I bleed. She forces me down the bleachers, trying to make me tumble, but I drag her along by her hair. We hiss and curse as our bodies fly down the steps. When we hit the ground she dives at me, pins me on the ground and starts punching. I block her attacks and try to switch where I'm at but her legs are strong and hold me down. I grab her arm and bite down, hard. She yelps and lets go, yanking it away. I straighten up and leap at her while she recovers. Fists fly and I aim directly for her face, right in the nose. She manages to throw me off with her legs and kicks at me in the stomach. I bend over, breathing hard from the sharpness of the blow. Then a punch spins my head to the side and I'm dazed. Pinned to the ground again. I can only hold up my arms and turn my face to the side while she pummels the front part of my body. Finally I clamp my hands around her throat. Squeeze. She gags and tries to pull my hands off but I have the wild gleam. The same gleam I got when I shot the stupid bank teller in the bank, trying to be a hero. Taking the one second I turn around to call the cops. I shoot him dead in the head. The crowd gasps.

Wait, it's not just the crowd anymore. I blink open from the red haze surrounding my vision. Marlene is staring at me, her eyes dead. Dead. I let go and she flops onto the floor. No one says anything, just gazes at me. Even Amy is speechless. The guards that were hurrying towards us stop dead in their tracks. I hang where I am, in limbo. No idea what to do next. Then I remember who I am, what I had been. Before I was sent to jail. Before I lost my heart to a bad boy who smoked weed and was years younger than me.

I feel a slippery sensation as I stare down at my only friend, the one I trusted with everything and anything. She was my router, the one who kept telling me what was right in the back of my head. I feel the sensation arrive at my lip and I taste salt. I reach up and touch it. It feels just like water. Just like shame and regret and depression and self-pity and emotional detachment.

Once I realize I'm crying, I can't stop. I don't stop. I lean over her cold body and scream into the air, cover up my eyes so I can't see anything. Warm arms support me and I'm carried through the prison. I grip Marlene's dead hand. I hear the Scot as he tells me it's okay, so stop crying. I smell the faint scent of death. I see an assortment of enraged glances to me. When I'm forced to break away from Marlene as she's transported, I cling to the Scot. Cry openly and loudly.

And then that's when I realize how much a piece of scum I really am.


	5. Chapter 5

Alec grips my hand strongly. That the Scot's name, Alec. It's a nice name. I try to snatch my arm away but I'm too weak. Used up the remaining strength I had to mourn over Marlene.

Really, what was I thinking? While I was building up my system I was also building up my ego and taking down my patience. Marlene stayed true the whole time while I became the biggest jerk in the world. I smiled while I hurt people and laughed when they cried. Marlene knew I was horrible yet she was still my friend. I should've supported her and the pissed off Italian, Romano. Whenever I looked at him he looked at me as if I were dead to him. Maybe if I had been a bit more observant I would have seen that he felt the same way about her. I had heard she was getting out in a few months, and had planned to elope with him. Now all of that was gone. I destroyed a happy ending just because I lost my temper.

Kirkland acted different towards me, as expected. Told me that I could either choose solitary confinement for two months and get an extended sentence or be hung. I was about to choose the death penalty when Alec shot me a warning glance. He didn't want me gone, not yet. I automatically chose confinement and Kirkland nodded at me with narrowed eyes. It would've looked better on his rep is I had chosen death penalty, because then he would seem colder and cooler to his superiors, but he didn't say anything all the same. We both already knew that that one-night stand we had never really happened. It was all a dream, an illusion.

The Scot's hand was finally released from mine as I was lead back into the room filled with darkness. The Chinese guard stood with us and waited for Alec to close the door. He ignored him and gave me a hug instead.

"Don't worry about things, Amelia. It'll be alright, I promise."

I looked out the window in front of me, seeing the seagulls fly high and free. The religious debate scandal wouldn't work now. All I could really do was wait. Wait for something, anything.

The door is shut and I'm greeted by the darkness. It swamps around me and tells me of all the wrongs that I've done. I try to imagine the starry night but the stars turn into evil red eyes that glare with malice. I close my eyes instead and sleep on the floor. No tears escape my eye ducts; they were dry from sobbing for a whole hour. I pressed my head to the cold ground and shivered. Things were different now, and I had to adapt. Until then I had to figure out my own self, to what I had become. Try and change it. I had enough time after all.

* * *

><p>"I'm getting out of here, Alec."<p>

I say this with certainty, and the Scot looks at me with wide eyes. Not doe ones, but ones of pure shock.

"What?"

"The more I stay here, the more evil I become. That simple. You can join me if you want, but I just wanted you to know."

He frowns at me. At the moment we're sitting together with my wrists handcuffed. True to policy I had to wear them when outside my new cell, even if it was only a few feet away. We sat on a pale, faded out bench with large and dirty window behind us. One and a half months had passed. If it hadn't been for Alec I would've gone crazy. And yes, I was in love with him. Not a big deal when you thought about it.

"And what if I try to stop you, lass?"

He smiles, the metal ring in his ear shining from the dimming sunlight. I can feel a light blush on my cheeks. I didn't notice how handsome he was until we had become lovers. I shake off the flighty feelings and answer him seriously.

"Then I kill you or knock you out."

"That's a bit extreme for a wee girl like yourself."

"Stop using the Scottish cliches, I know you don't talk like that."

"Suit yourself. When do you plan to break out?"

I stop from responding and narrow my eyes. Trust is something I don't give away easily. Kirkland had exploited me and used me as an example. I couldn't forgive him for that. It turned out the two closest to me were right all along. He was a jerk.

"I won't tell a soul, I promise."

"I'm sure you won't but someone might try to stop me. That someone being you, of course."

"Just say it already."

"Tomorrow night, when the lights are being replaced and all the strict guards leave early to drink."

"I see…"

The melancholy in his face is obvious. Whenever he started liking me I never knew, but it was obvious he liked me a lot now. Enough to settle things with Romano. Now the Italian didn't spit at me as much. I smile at him, feeling the pang in my heart. He doesn't smile back but kisses me on the cheek.

"Well, I guess you have to do what you have to do. I wish nothing but the best for you too."

Being soft wasn't my thing. It was when I was a girl, crying my heart out over spilled milk, but not when I was older. Feelings made you do stupid things though. I let a tear slide out and I laid my head on his shoulder. He didn't push it away, just laid his on top of mine. I breathed in the scent of whiskey and smokes.

"You got any cigarettes for me?"

"You're still using the system, aren't you?"

He hands me one anyway and lights it for me. I mutter a thanks and tell him that I'm not. The system collapsed when I strangled Marlene. There, I said it. I killed her. Now I had to leave that behind me.

The glow of the sunset is disturbed by sudden rain. Alec tells me he has to leave for the night. I walk with him to my cell and wait by the door. Rather then kissing me, he embraces me. I feel his warmth transfer to mine and I sigh contently. He lets go but keeps his hands on my shoulders.

"Good luck, lass. You'll need it."

I smile with genuine emotions. Happiness, depression, and love.

"Thanks. Good night."

The door closes loudly as it locks and I stare at where it's supposed to be. Tomorrow night would be hell but it would be worth it. It was always worth it in the end.

* * *

><p>Sneaking out was easy when it was done right. I had already bribed someone to get me out of the cell and not talk. Their accent was clear as they led me out.<p>

"I wish you'd stop-a this thing here before you-a make yourself get in trouble!"

Romano scolded me with irritation. I simply ignored him and handed him the hair pins Marlene had worn on hot days. They were a light pink and looked beautiful on her. She had gotten them through the system and given them to me so no one would find out about them. I had forgotten about it, however, and kept it with me in my pocket. Romano held them in his hands, a distant look in his face. I gave him another moment then cleared my throat.

"Alright-a already, I'll leave!"

He sounded angry but gave me a thankful smile before leaving. Nervousness and tension stopped me from smiling back. Now came the hard part. The window in front of me shivered and I gripped the metal bars. The guards were always talking about how weak and withered they were. The jail had been made in the early nineteenth century and had been remodeled in the fifties. This part of it, the secluded convict area, had been dismissed. After applying some elbow grease I managed to pry the bars off. I looked down and the height from where I was to the ground heightened. I shook away the paranoia, prepared myself, and then jumped. I rolled once I hit the ground and took a second to steady myself. Search lights shone near me and I skirted around them. The exit was already in my sights. I dodged the lights and crept past the security guard who was sleeping soundly in their security box. The night guard was none other then the Greek.

When I made it past the signs and out of the walls, I took a moment to breathe. Breathe in the real world, the world I would soon be living in. Get over my past and start a new future. The possibilities were endless. I felt a lump from not being able to see Alec again or find out what had happened with Fiona and Amy's armies but suppressed it. This wasn't the time to regret. Now was the time for action.

I jogged through the woods. Trees loomed over me ominously. The forest itself was quiet. Too quiet. Something was wrong.

And then I felt someone pin me against a tree. I looked up to see the Warden. He glared at me with hatred. I looked at him with scared eyes.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Suddenly his serious look broke and he laughed.

"What's this? The big and bad Amelia is now stuttering? How comical!"

"I asked what you're doing here!"

"I'm here to stop you, of course."

He sneered at my stunned expression. I felt my blood run cold when I saw he wasn't without weapons. A gun lay in his holster and a dagger was strapped to it.

"I heard from a friend who heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend."

Kirkland twirled his fingers around. He was playing with me. I was now the mouse, him the cat. I was ripe to be stripped of every ounce of honor I had. He knew this. The question was what he wanted.

"What do I want, you think?"

I jump at his remark and he laughs deviously, eyes glinting. He leans forward, breathing near my ear. Past memories make me shiver.

"I want you, inmate."

I try to push him back but his real strength shows. He brings his body closer to mine. I feel his hand rest on my flaming cheek. The other brushes a stray hair behind my ear.

"I want you to become mine, to stay with me. I've had it with overly lovesick girls. I want someone like you, who doesn't care if I cheat on them. Stay here with me."

He starts to kiss me but I wrench my head away. He slams his head, forcing me to look at him. The good-nature in his eyes has turned into lust.

"Don't deny me. You don't have a choice."

I feel like hyperventilating. I feel like punching him in the face. I feel like telling him I'd rather sleep with a pig than with him. I feel like grabbing his gun and shooting him between the eyes, a kill shot. But I'm a doe caught in the headlights. I can't do anything. He has control over me.

Kirkland moves his lips lightly against my mouth, twining his fingers with mine. He kisses me on the lips. Then he forces his tongue through. He breathes rapidly as he brings himself closer to me. I can feel hot tears run down my face. I have to stand up for myself, stop what's going to happen. But I don't have the strength, don't know how…

Then, Kirkland is thrown off of me. A lone figure holds him and he spits at him. He looks like he's about to say something when the figure speaks first.

"Stay away from my woman, ya perverted dog."

The accent is instantly recognizable. I make out the outline of Alec and cry out his name. He smirks at me, and Arthur takes that moment to push him away. He pulls out a gun and points it towards me. Alec regains his composure and Arthur points it towards him. Left, right, left, right, he threatens us with the metal object. His eyes are wide but determined, but so are Alec's.

"Drop the gun, brother."

"I'll only drop it when I shoot one of your heads off!"

He shouts this. He's gone past his breaking point. I can see the insanity hidden in his eyes, his movements. Broken and ready to burst.

"You don't want to do this."

Alec is saying this slowly, putting his hands up for added effect. Arthur hesitates before pointing it at me. I decide it's my turn to say something.

"Whatever has happened won't change, even if you kill us."

"You don't understand, do you?"

He smiles broadly, a fake smile on his face.

"Because of you killing that girl they're calling our prison racially partial! You know what that means? It means we'll be shut down because you killed a black girl. In my prison. Under my watch. They're shutting us down and making sure I never work again!"

"And how will this change if you shoot me?"

As if I helped him choose, he directed the gun towards me. His hands stopped shaking. I gulped.

"If I kill you, I can say that it couldn't be stopped. You have no records except your criminal ones. Not even a hometown. I could fill it with enough information to make you seem mentally insane. They couldn't say it was done for racial reasons then."

My eyes widened and his smirk somehow got bigger. A flash of movement caught him off guard and his gun was grabbed by Alec. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen him creeping over, but I didn't take note of it. Too dangerous. Arthur tried to grab it from him but Alec drew the gun up to where he was.

"Step away, brother. Step away right now."

"You don't have the guts to shoot me."

"You're right, I don't. But she does."

He threw the gun to me and I caught it easily. I automatically readied it to him and closed my left eye. Arthur changed his attitude to a joking one.

"H-hey now, we don't need to do this! You don't have to shoot me!"

I kept the gun pointed at him. Arthur's adam's apple bobbed as he gulped and he played with his tie nervously.

"L-look, I'll just leave and forget this ever happened, alright? No one will know about what happens tonight."

"You're right, they won't."

I dropped my level of the gun. Alec and Arthur stared at me in wonder. Waiting for what I would say next. I held my hand out to the Warden.

"Come with us, Arthur."

"Are you bloody insane?"

"According to you I am, but that won't stop me from offering. Come with us and you can stop this whole downward spiral thing before it gets out of control. Get rid of the schizophrenia."

Arthur stopped his protesting.

"How do you know about that?"

"I've been to five prisons, I know what the crazy people are like. Staying there isn't healthy for you, especially when you can't keep a serious relationship."

Alec didn't say anything. He knew I could handle the situation now. Arthur's face of rage turned into one of consideration, and I knew that he would come along.

"I'm sorry, but I…I can't just leave the place. Maybe you and my brother can, but I can't. I've worked there as long as I can remember. I don't know whether what you say is true or not, but I know that my place is there, not with you."

To describe the shock on my face would be impossible. Just when I thought that the Warden could leave it all behind him and save himself, he turned his back. I looked at Alec and he lip mouthed to me to leave it alone. I didn't want to. The feeling of being imprisoned was not me. I couldn't let someone else suffer the way I did.

Drops of water hit my head. I glanced up to see the sky falling. I looked ahead of me and felt Arthur kiss me. He held my face in his hands, smiling sadly. He then looked at Alec.

"Take good care of her. And if you don't I'll kick your arse. Got it?"

Alec smiled lightheartedly at his kin.

"I will."

Arthur nodded and let go of me, stepping back. His eyes traced down me, head to toe. Taking in a mental picture. After another minute he picked up the gun and put it back in its holster. I watched with interest. He was just going to leave us. Just like that. I glanced over at Alec and saw the sorrow in his eyes. He had protected his brother so sharply, he must've hated to separate from him.

But then he grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers. He gave a small smile to Arthur and Arthur smiled back. Seeing brothers permanently part ways always made a gloomy scene. Arthur turned his heel and started walking away in the rain. To me the moment was picturesque. To Alec it was heartbreaking.

The rain started to beat down lighter and then stopped altogether. Alec glanced at me with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. I gave him the same look back. Finally, freedom. I might've not gotten to it the way I expected it but I got it all the same. In some ways I wish I could've gone with a blow out, like the stir up of the religious debate. I always thought about it but I never really got the plan going. I was too involved with Arthur. I was too involved with myself.

The sun still hadn't come up. I still had a chance to go back and complete what life I had back there, back in Nitella Fields Penitentiary. I chose not to. My real future was already calling me. The future where I would travel the world, and maybe settle down with Alec. Maybe. But for now I had to take the first step into freedom.

I did.

~Fin~


End file.
